Beneath the sunlit skies,

Where bright birds wing, and rich luxuriant trees

Sway in the fevered breeze,

My Brother lies.

The bending grasses woo

His hurried grave; a cross of oak to show

The drifting winds, a Soldier sleeps below.

—Our Saviour's cross, I know,

Was wooden, too.

[A] The river Rufigi rose so high the night he died, none of his own Battalion could cross it to attend his last honours.

[A]

[Pg 21]

[Pg 21]

Sorrow

Send Sorrow away,

For Sorrow is dressed in grey,

And her eyes are dim

With a weary rim.

Send Sorrow away.

Send Sorrow away.

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